


Apropos, You're Beautiful

by zenelly



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, i am way too invested in this dumb rarepair i love it so much, tsumugi is a mess okay, tsumugi navelgazes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: The first time it happens, it's an accident. Probably. Mostly. Tsumugi likes to think he didn't do it deliberately, knowing how it would hurt the whole way through, but he also likes to think that whenever he smells the charcoal of burning paper and ink, so perhaps his own opinion here can't be trusted.OR5 times Tsumugi asked Tori out to piss off Eichi (and 1 time he did it for himself)





	1. Student Council

**Author's Note:**

> *buries face in hands* i am stupid-gone over this pairing honestly and I have messily spilled my feelings about it all over this fic and I COULD apologize but that would imply that I was sorry for anything. I don't like lying to people like that, so instead you get this. Enjoy!
> 
> Title from "Get Used To It" by Ricky Montgomery

The first time it happens, it's an accident. Probably. Mostly. Tsumugi likes to think he didn't do it deliberately, knowing how it would hurt the whole way through, but he also likes to think that whenever he smells the charcoal of burning paper and ink, so perhaps his own opinion here can't be trusted.

The first time, see, is caused by the dismissive look in Eichi’s eyes, the way his gaze never settles on Tsumugi anymore and just slides off of him. Or perhaps it never settled on him at all and Tsumugi was just too caught up in how beautiful Eichi’s eyes were to even notice. The first time happens because Hibiki is perched on Eichi’s desk, his foot braced against Eichi’s chair with an easy familiarity, Eichi’s hand wrapped around his ankle, and the sight twists inside Tsumugi like a knife that has never been completely removed.

Eichi glances up. Away. Returns his attention back to Hibiki. Like a flower turned towards the sun. “Oh, Tsumugi. You can leave those papers on the desk. I can get to it-“

And.

Something spiteful curls darkly in his chest.

“Actually, Eichi-kun,” Tsumugi says, uncomfortably aware of how brittle his smile is turning at the edges. This is a terrible idea, but he wants Eichi to just _look_ at him, even for a moment. “I was hoping to borrow Himemiya-kun for just a little bit.”

There is a long beat of silence.

“What do you want with Tori, Tsumugi?” Eichi asks, blue eyes pinning him in place.

Tsumugi’s fingers spasm around his papers, the only thing that betrays the frantic way his heart beats as a foreign entity takes over his mouth and curls it into a smile, the edge hidden but still present. “Just some help with this. After all, I would hate to bother you personally, President. It’s just a little form.”

Fushimi stands, his chair gliding back in his smooth grip. “Bocchama-“

“I’ll do it.”

Himemiya’s chin lifts, proud, and Tsumugi can see the determined set of his mouth and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. “I can take care of just a little problem.”

Eichi looks at Himemiya, an odd shadow in his eyes when he glances back at Tsumugi. And then, as though he’s forcing that mind of his to stop its turning, he shrugs and smiles. “Very well then. Hurry back, Tori. We’ll miss you.”

An excited wriggle travels up Himemiya’s spine, like a puppy being told he’s doing a good job, and Himemiya whirls on Tsumugi in a storm of pink hair and determination. “Come on then. No dawdling! Yuzuru, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

It’s clear that Fushimi doesn’t like that at all, but he lets Himemiya go with a nod and minimal fussing, leaving Tsumugi clear to question his own choices and his stupid mouth that likes to get ahead of him when he’s frustrated. Inviting Himemiya out just to spite Eichi is probably one of the worst moves he’s made in a while. Eichi isn’t going to feel bad or want Tsumugi to pay attention to him for this. Tsumugi knows that Eichi is just going to continue doing what he’s _been_ doing, looking at Hibiki with that open, wondrous expression that Tsumugi nearly _killed_ people to get even a glimpse of-

“Are we going or not, Aoba-senpai?”

Tsumugi blinks, startled, looking down at Himemiya’s pout before clearing his throat. “Um. Yes. Let’s head out, then.”

This… was a bad idea, actually, Tsumugi admits as he leads Himemiya down to the library. Himemiya is temperamental and bratty from all reports, but he’s Sora’s friend as well as Eichi’s underclassman. He doesn’t need to be dragged into this mess. At least Tsumugi actually does have some documents he needs the Student Council to look at.

They work in silence once Tsumugi shows Himemiya what needs to be done. The school doesn’t care too much for their old books (the ones Natsume hasn’t already stolen and secreted away, that is) and Tsumugi’s proposal to donate them to a local library came with more red tape than he anticipated. Distantly, Tsumugi can hear the clatter of voices from various clubs and indistinct singing, voices drifting in through the cracked windows along with a gentle breeze. He wonders if Natsume is in his lab. If Sora is out somewhere getting himself in trouble.

Himemiya fidgets. His legs swing beneath his chair, scuffing along the floor every once in a while and startling him each time. Tsumugi almost puts a hand on his leg to ground out some of the restless energy the way he would Sora, but he stops himself. He doesn’t want to lose the hand today, after all. He couldn’t be an idol with just one hand.

His distraction is what he blames later for what comes out of his mouth next, as Tsumugi finishes up his stack of paperwork after so long being silent, the words bubbling out.

“How is Eichi-kun?”

Himemiya blinks up at him, his pretty face set in a scowl. “He’s fine. No thanks to you.”

It-

Well, it hurts, to hear it so bluntly. Tsumugi’s breath stutters into his lungs, and it’s hard to let go, the air curling up and solidifying in his throat, choking the life out of him. Hands fluttering, he stacks his finished papers with all their signatures, aligning edges, paper-sharp against his palms.

Scoffing, Himemiya looks away. It’s almost something like sympathy. “But he is fine. He’s feeling better all the time.”

“Can you… look after him?” It isn’t what he means to say at all, but at the same time, Tsumugi knows as soon as the words are out that he doesn’t want them back.

Himemiya-kun makes this noise that isn’t quite a huff and isn’t quite a snort. It’s adorable, and Tsumugi has to smooth out the corners of his mouth before he starts smiling, or worse, laughs. “Of course I will! What kind of person do you take me for? I will _always_ look after the President until I can be the kind of person he can be proud of!”

Tsumugi stares. Himemiya-kun means it, he can tell, from the set of his mouth to the stiff line of his shoulders, and Tsumugi-

Well, a little knot in Tsumugi’s chest loosens. To see that kind of dedication.

His voice is gentle as he passes back the papers, finally organized into neat stacks. “I know you will. Thank you, Himemiya-kun.”

“Don’t get any weird ideas, okay? I was looking after him before you came around to tell me so!” Himemiya harrumphs again, crossing his arms across his chest, but his grip on the papers is secure. He sends Tsumugi a glare that he’s sure is supposed to be withering and while Tsumugi can certainly feel the beginning stirs of terror in the face of such a belligerent personality, he also finds himself unaccountably tender, seeing the bluster for what it is.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he says with a faint smile. “Thank you for your help, Himemiya-kun. You made this much faster. You should head back to Eichi-kun before he gets too worried.”

A pleased flush lights Himemiya’s cheeks at the praise, and his voice is loud, boisterous as they make their way back.

(And when they return, Eichi _is_ bothered. He hovers and postures and pats Himemiya-kun on his head in a way that makes the little first-year just _light_ up, and Tsumugi isn’t so foolish as to ignore all the signs of Eichi staking a claim. What surprises him is the nasty, vindictive curl of satisfaction in his own chest at how he _made_ Eichi worry.

The first time is an accident. Tsumugi doesn’t mean for it to become a _thing_ , but.

But it does.)


	2. The Tea Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, because Tsumugi has no control over his own mouth when spite drives his brain, he says, “Would you like to sit with me until Hibiki-kun leaves? I promise I won’t be too dull.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this pairing is still inexplicably ruining my life. No, I don't know how or why it happened.

Hibiki’s voice resounds through the otherwise quiet tea garden, boisterous and loud, and Tsumugi tries his best to keep his eyes focused on the table in front of him instead of watching the way Eichi can’t seem to take his gaze off Hibiki. It’s a half-hearted effort at best on Tsumugi’s part. He doesn’t think Eichi is trying at all. Tsumugi takes a deep breath in. It’s a nice day, with fragrant flowers all around and the light sparkling in Eichi’s eyes as Hibiki takes a deep bow and produces a rose out of nowhere, tucking it behind Eichi’s ear.

It hurts, he thinks, to see someone you used to be in love with being loved by another person the way you wanted to.

Ah this is far too maudlin for such a nice day. Tsumugi buries his face in his hands, pushing his glasses up. Even out here, trying to relax, he’s ruining the atmosphere. Of course he is. He barely ever does anything except ruin things

He doesn’t even have his lucky item today, Tsumugi muses morosely, pulling his hands back to let the pressure spots fill his vision. And now he’s blind. Great. What if he’s like this forever? His fortune this morning said he had terrible luck today so unless he finds his lucky item he is, in effect, screwed. Tsumugi lets out a sigh and slumps down. The glass of the table is cool against his cheek. He’s probably leaving gross marks on it and he’s ruined it forever, or at the very least, caused some poor cleaner to have to work harder and today is awful.

Eichi laughs, weightless in a way he never was around Tsumugi, and Tsumugi’s hands clench. Today is awful.

“What is he doing here?” a small voice asks with some dismay. Tsumugi opens one eye, glancing sideways and yes, there’s Himemiya, nose wrinkled in disgust. He isn’t looking at Tsumugi, luckily, but is giving a big stink-eye towards Eichi’s end of the garden. “I wanted to have tea with the President… That long-haired nuisance isn’t even in the tea club!”

And, because Tsumugi has no control over his own mouth when spite drives his brain, he says, “Would you like to sit with me until Hibiki-kun leaves? I promise I won’t be too dull.”

“Ah!” Himemiya jumps, a hand flying to his chest. “How long have you- Oh never mind. No, I’ll-“

Hibiki laughs again, loud and resonant. Tsumugi feels vindicated by the exasperated look Himemiya throws across the garden before he pulls out a chair at Tsumugi’s table. “Alright, fine,” Himemiya grouses, crossing his arms. “I guess I can wait here.”

“Thank you for your presence, Himemiya-kun,” Tsumugi says with a laugh. It’s odd how Himemiya’s mix of brattiness and effusive, non-critical drama relaxes him, pulling the knot of tension and dissatisfaction in his chest loose. That seems to happen a lot around Himemiya so far. Like he’s catching the loose threads that make up Tsumugi’s entire being and pulling them free.

“That’s right! Admit how honored you are having me here.”

Tsumugi shakes his head and smiles, watching the way Himemiya’s cheeks flush. “I am quite pleased to have you here with me, Himemiya-kun. I’m sure we can find a way to liven up this place.”

Himemiya wrinkles his nose. “Hopefully not too lively. I came here to relax, after all. I thought the President had too, but.”

“He seems to find something relaxing about Hibiki-kun.”

“Nothing about that menace is relaxing,” Himemiya grumbles with the surety of personal experience, and Tsumugi laughs. “Hey,” he says after a moment, “You and the President are still friends, aren’t you? Why don’t you go over there yourself?”

“We used to- Well, I used to be useful to him.” Tsumugi drops his gaze to his hands, examining their familiar creases and pretending he can’t still see the smears of soot on his fingers. “That isn’t the case anymore, and Eichi-kun made it very clear that he wanted nothing more to do with me after everything that happened.”

“You left fine. You don’t get to be upset at what happens now.”

Tsumugi bites back a hundred sharp things. “I left fine, that much is true. I couldn’t stand being there anymore. Not when he couldn’t even see me as an equal, or even just someone who liked him for who he was and who wanted to know more about him. Maybe that is selfish. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t regret what happened.” He shakes his head, curls flying about his face. “Nevermind. It’s in the past. I can’t fix it by wishing.”

A small hand slips into his. Tsumugi jolts at the unexpected touch, but Himemiya doesn’t let go, doesn’t back down. “I understand that,” he says, too serious for such a sweet face, but the weight in his eyes makes Tsumugi’s breath catch. Himemiya squeezes Tsumugi’s hand. “I understand. I have you to thank for ending up where I am now, but there’s no reason for us to be enemies, is there?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Tsumugi smiles; sure, it hurts around the corners, but it’s… different now. A clean hurt.

Himemiya grins back and doesn’t let go. His hand is small in Tsumugi’s and warm, and Tsumugi doesn’t mention it, afraid with a strange kind of lurching in his stomach that if he says something, Himemiya will take it away.

Tsumugi attributes the knot in his chest to gratitude. The flutter, however, is a mystery.

“A-Anyway. Aoba-senpai, do you know how to make tea? We should have something while we wait.”

And Tsumugi allow Himemiya-kun the out, fairly certain that his cheeks are pink enough to match Himemiya’s own. He stands and runs his knee into the table. “I um. I may not be as good as Hajime-kun, but I know my way around a kettle. Give me. Just a moment.

Tsumugi moves to prepare some tea, the ritual of it calming his shaking hands. What on earth was that? What on earth was that? A simple touch shouldn’t have flustered him so much, especially not one so innocuous and clearly aimed at comfort. It’s just. Himemiya’s face had been so understanding, and sweet, and Tsumugi doesn’t know why he keeps bothering to spend time with Tsumugi when Tsumugi is a mess. It doesn’t make any sense. It makes Tsumugi want things. Want to claim Himemiya’s space and attention until those eyes are turned from Eichi and-

This is a dangerous line of thought.

Tsumugi knows what happens when he wants things like this. He can’t. Not here, not now. Not like this. This is just to drive a knife into Eichi’s side. This is all to make Eichi upset and twitchy and nervous because Eichi can never believe that people aren’t orchestrating his downfall. That’s all. Tsumugi nods to himself, pouring the tea into a pair of glasses for them, and when he turns around, it’s to find Eichi right behind him.

“What are you doing, Tsumugi?” he asks, voice low but expression mild and pleasant.

Fear, or the shadow of it anyway, grips Tsumugi by the base of his spine, forcing him to stand straighter. He swallows. Then, lightly, “I’m having tea with Himemiya-kun. Why, Eichi-kun? Is there something you need?”

“Tori should come sit with me, so I’ll take his tea and-“

Tsumugi pivots, putting his shoulder between Eichi’s reaching hand and the tea, eyebrows furrowing. Eichi looks startled at the denial, then coldly furious. Tsumugi’s mouth is dry. “I’m afraid the two of us are already engaged in conversation, Eichi-kun. I know you can forget your manners sometimes, but it’s still rude to interrupt people like that. Go back to Hibiki. You’ve always preferred his company most of all.”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at yet, Tsumugi,” Eichi warns, “but rest assured, if you hurt him-“

“Eichi-kun, you were always the one with the grand ideas.” Hurt him? Tsumugi shakes his head. Eichi is still caught up in who Tsumugi used to be. The person Eichi made him. “I’m learning so much about Himemiya-kun from talking to him and I’m enjoying myself doing so. He’s quite the delightful boy, isn’t he? Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

When he turns around, Fushimi-kun has finally appeared and is speaking with Himemiya, a furrow between his brows. Himemiya seems lively still, gesticulating with his hands, and Tsumugi can’t help but smile at his expressiveness as he makes his way back over to their claimed table. Eichi’s stare is a dagger in his back.

“What took you so long?” Himemiya asks, looking up from his conversation with Fushimi. “My tea must be cold by now!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tsumugi sets down the tea and reaches out, presumptuous and anger-bold, courage a solid heat where resentment used to be. He grasps Himemiya’s hand, brushing his thumb across the bumps of his knuckles. “I didn’t mean to desert you.”

Himemiya sputters. He doesn’t move to reclaim his hand, though, instead closing his fingers around Tsumugi’s. “Well good! Because you promised to sit with me until that weirdo left!”

That said, Himemiya uses his other hand to pick up his tea, and ignores Fushimi’s stare at their joined hands. As Himemiya does, Tsumugi looks up to meet Eichi’s blue eyes, fixed in a frown, locked on the place where Tsumugi’s thumb sweeps across Tori’s skin.

Tsumugi makes sure to look back at Himemiya’s smile before Eichi can catch him, but smugness must radiate from him regardless because he can feel it down to his bones.

(He doesn’t. Want to let go of Himemiya’s hand. And so he doesn’t. That part, Tsumugi isn’t quite sure what to make of it.)


	3. To the Shopping District

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well then,” Tsumugi starts. Then stops, frowning. He was just saying that he’s better than this. But the urge to accompany Himemiya, to walk with him and drop him off, to just spend time with him and hear his light, bell-like laugh that makes something inside Tsumugi light up in response… He wets his lips. Offers, “I could walk you there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *RIPS OFF MY SHIRT AND ROARS* CANON MUGITORI EVENT
> 
> so there's a LOT that's getting kinda... added into this??? because????? NEW EVENT?????? SO EVERYTHING ELSE THAT I'VE DONE HAS SORT OF BEEN THROWN OUT THE WINDOW??? BUT genki exfine tsumugi has been CONFIRMED (to my unending delight), and tori being fascinated by tsumugi and looking up to him has been CONFIRMED (to the screeching that my poor poor boyfriend had to listen to a few days ago) and basically, we have all been right all along, mugitori is where it is AT, AND MY FLAG IS FUCKING HERE.

“I’m not a vindictive person,” Tsumugi explains to the cupped space between his hands.

“A shame, Really. You’d be more interesting if you Were,” Natsume says without even bothering to look up from the bowl in front of him. Tsumugi has the _worst_ underclassmen, honestly. Aside from Sora and Hajime. And now Himemiya too, with his sweet face and cutting tongue, so like Natsume that Tsumugi can’t help but feel a little fond already.

“I’m not trying to get close to Himemiya because it upsets Eichi.”

Natsume’s hand pauses where he’s lowering it before he sniffs and sprinkles the white grains in. “The fact that it Does helps Though, doesn’t It? You’re certainly not stopping because he’s Upset.”

To that, Tsumugi has no response. Natsume is right. Tsumugi has found himself enjoying the time he spends with Himemiya-kun, and has found some solace in Himemiya’s indulgent selfishness, the easy way he wants to be paid attention to, and the way he returns that focus. He’s… actually very much enjoyed it, to the point where he’s been finding more paperwork to ask for help with. But Eichi’s visible dissatisfaction is what started it all and there’s a small, bitter part of Tsumugi’s soul that is _very_ pleased when Eichi gets that tight look around his eyes.

That is the part of him that writes blackmail like it’s nothing and thinks nothing of sabotaging other people’s performances.

It’s the part that he’s trying to not pay as much attention to anymore.

“Is it so bad that I want to be a good senpai to him?”

“If being a good Senpai was all you were worrying About, you wouldn’t be in my Lab whining like This.” Natsume lifts his leonine eyes from his work and cocks an eyebrow at him. “So what is the real issue Here, Senpai? Do you like little Momo-kun? He can’t join Switch, you Know.”

Tsumugi shakes his head. “I’m not trying to get him to join Switch. He’s a good fit for _fine_. I don’t know. It feels like I don’t know what I’m trying to do anymore. I don’t want to hurt Eichi, after all.”

There’s a moment’s silence as Natsume continues stirring his bowl of ingredients before he sits back on his heels with a sigh. He turns on Tsumugi in an instant, moods mercurial as ever. “You are ruining my Work,” Natsume snaps, shoving at Tsumugi. “I have very delicate Things in play here and your moping is upsetting my delicate chemical Balance. Get Out! Mope Elsewhere, with more sympathetic Ears!”

“But Natsume-kun-“

“Either be Petty and ruin Tenshouin’s life Already, or stop whining and fade back into Insignificance. Your choices aren’t Difficult, Senpai.”

“Natsume-kun, you can just say that you want to make cookies in private, you know-“

“Ğ̨̯̫͕ė̞̘͚̲̗̤̅ͮͫ̌t̺̙̯̜̋̋̌ͫ ͊̇̚Ỏ̳͕ͮ̒u̗̜͙̐̒̊̐t̠̜̆ͤ.”

Ducking a hurled book, Tsumugi leans back into Natsume’s secret lair and calls out, “They smell delicious. Just remember that Akehoshi-kun likes sparkly items, you know, so you may want to decorate with edible glitter.”

“Senpai, I hate You, LEAVE.”

Tsumugi retreats from Natsume’s vitriol, chuckling as he makes his way up the stairs. It’s cute, how he puts on airs but Tsumugi has noticed the way Natsume watches Akehoshi-kun, like a flower turned towards the sun, remembers how he himself acted like that once. More than anything, he wants Natsume’s quest for the sun to turn out better than his own. The library is quiet still, golden motes of dust floating in the stray beams of light. Tsumugi gathers his things with careful hands, sliding his notebooks into his school bag.

“Ruin his life, huh?” he whispers to himself.

It’s not like he didn’t expect Natsume to advocate for hurting Eichi as much as possible, but the advice sits strangely with Tsumugi, settling panic-hot inside his chest, and Tsumugi has to admit that he still doesn’t want to really hurt Eichi. Just bother him a little by getting close to someone he considers dear to him. Even then, Himemiya-kun is such a delight that spending time with him is a reward in and of itself. He presses a hand to his sternum, frowning at the flutter there.

Tsumugi sighs as he leaves the school. Things have become too complicated. This is why he doesn’t try to plan anything on his own. He can never see situations for how they truly are and just ends up complicating everything.

“Ah! Tsumugi-senpai! I thought I saw your curly hair!”

“Curly?” Tsumugi repeats under his breath, touching his hair self-consciously even as he recognizes Himemiya standing at the school’s entrance. “O-oh. Himemiya-kun, what are you doing here so late?”

Himemiya’s pretty face twists in a pout as he shakes out his hands. Aching wrists, maybe? Tsumugi abortively reaches out, stops himself. Himemiya doesn’t seem to notice at all. “Student Council work. The Vice President made me late to practice!”

The mention of practice has Tsumugi freezing. After all this talk of Eichi and with how conflicted his own feelings are, it feels like an ill omen. “I shouldn’t keep you then.”

“Mm, it’s alright. We’re meeting up at the actual stage in the shopping district, so you aren’t stopping me from going at all.”

“Well then,” Tsumugi starts. Then stops, frowning. He was just saying that he’s better than this. But the urge to accompany Himemiya, to walk with him and drop him off, to just spend time with him and hear his light, bell-like laugh that makes something inside Tsumugi light up in response… He wets his lips. Offers, “I could walk you there?”

Himemiya stares up at him, and a flood of nervous words flow out of Tsumugi as he babbles, hands waving.

“Since Fushimi-kun isn’t here, and all. That’s a bit odd, too, isn’t it? I would have thought he would wait for you.”

Himemiya surveys him with wide, curious eyes before shrugging, purposefully unaffected. “I sent him ahead to let the President know I was finishing my work and that I would be along soon. Yuzuru was fussing too much and it was making the Vice President twitch enough to distract me!”

Then, without a moment’s hesitation, Himemiya wraps his arms around Tsumugi’s arm and tugs, leading him down the road towards, presumably, where the rest of fine awaits. Tsumugi’s hands flutter for a second, uncertain. “Well, it’s good that you focused and got your work done. I’m surprised Eichi-kun wasn’t there with you.”

“The President had to leave to secure our practice location! That useless long haired magician didn’t do it properly.”

Tsumugi chuckles under his breath as Tori bounces on his toes with every step. “I find that hard to believe. Hibiki-kun usually does things with such care when _fine_ is concerned.”

“You and I are definitely speaking about different people,” Himemiya mutters darkly, and Tsumugi’s laughter gets louder. “I’m serious! The only thing that clown does seriously is his own magic, and even _that’s_ frivolous.”

“Now now, Himemiya-kun, surely by now you know that’s not true.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know. Hajime says you’re a good senpai and it wouldn’t be the _worst_ for you to address me like you do him.”

Tsumugi blinks, takes in the way Himemiya’s ears are turning pink under his scrutiny, and grins. So much like Natsume sometimes, speaking around what he wants instead of asking directly. “You want me to call you by your first name?”

“Must you repeat everything I say?” Himemiya, no, Tori stamps his foot. Darling and bratty and Tsumugi likes him _so much_ it catches his lungs with every breath.

“Tori-kun,” Tsumugi says, curling his tongue around the unfamiliar syllables, and that brings him up short. “People understand you better when you’re more direct with them.”

For a moment, Tori seems at a loss for words. Then his mouth hardens up and his eyes drop and Tsumugi’s lungs seize at the suddenness of his own desire to wipe that expression from Tori’s face. “I can’t just order people to do things for me, Aoba-senpai! It’s unbecoming of my station.”

“Some would say that it _is_ your station.”

“What kind of happiness is that if other people only do what I tell them to? I’m just. I’m just one person. I can’t live for everyone. I can’t-“ and here, Tori bites his lip. “I can’t take away their lives or their free will like that.”

Tsumugi hums.

“What? What’s that noise for?”

“I was thinking that Hajime-kun was right. You’re a very nice person aren’t you?  He always has such nice things to say about you.”

Tori sputters. “Well of course he does! I am a very nice person.”

Tsumugi lets that one slide as they turn the corner into the shopping district. The stage shouldn’t be too much further now. “You don’t have to keep calling me senpai, either. Not if you don’t want to.”

Tori lets out a huge breath, like he had been holding it back, and Tsumugi jumps, startled. “Oh thank goodness. It’s very hard to keep from calling you Tsumugi-sama, but Anzu said you would be startled by it!”

Wait, what?

“Sama?” Tsumugi repeats, voice faint.

“You used to be in _fine_ and I looked up to you, so! Tsumugi-sama. Does it bother you?”

It’s… flattering in a way that fits strangely, an odd superposition of the Tsumugi from last year over Tsumugi of this year. He can feel the smile and the curl of satisfaction he would have worn before, the feeling that his work has earned this deference as payment for all that he’s done. And at the same time, Tsumugi is achingly aware of how uncomfortable it is, to be praised for doing things that hurt so many people.

(Or perhaps, to be praised for doing such hurtful things and then being cast aside.

_You used to be in fine_ , a dark voice whispers, _until Eichi didn’t need you anymore._ )

Tori turns abruptly, stopping them in front of a department store to stare up at Tsumugi’s face. Does he have something on him? Did Natsume’s cooking – potion-making, sorry – leave traces on him? Has he really been walking along this whole time looking like a mess, especially while in direct comparison to the scion of the Himemiya household, who is so small and so perfect? A cold sweat breaks out on Tsumugi’s forehead.

“I-Is something the matter?”

“You look very different with glasses,” Tori says, and he’s suddenly very close and very _warm_ inside the circle of Tsumugi’s arms as he gingerly takes Tsumugi’s glasses off. The world is softly blurred, and Tsumugi can’t help but blink rapidly and squint to try and force his eyes to focus even though he knows it won’t help.

“Tori-kun?”

Tsumugi only hears the hitch in Tori’s breath because they’re so close, practically feels the gap in air brushing his face. He thinks Tori moves closer. His voice is soft as he whispers, “You used to smile more, too, Tsumugi-sama.”

There’s an instant of electric tension and-

“Tori!”

Broken by the strident call of Eichi’s voice, and Tsumugi jerks back from the magnetic pull of… whatever that was. He casts about semi-blindly for Eichi, who is at least far enough away that Tsumugi can see him relatively clearly, blurring around the edges. Not unclear enough for Tsumugi to mistake the divot between his brows or the tense line of anger across his shoulders. To his credit, Tori only fumbles a little, pressing Tsumugi’s glasses back into his hands with a garbled noise.

The frames almost fall to the ground, but Tsumugi manages to hold onto them tightly as Eichi storms over.

“H-Hi, President! I’m here now! Are we still practicing? I didn’t miss out on time with you, did I?”

Carefully, Tsumugi puts his glasses back on, ignoring the smudges of fingerprints to risk assessing Eichi’s expression. He wants to explain, can feel the words bubbling up, but-

What is there to actually explain?

What has he done that he needs to account for?

An unfamiliar serenity, bitter as ever, flows over him, and Tsumugi flashes a faint smile at Tori. “Well, thank you, Tori-kun, for letting me accompany you here. Take care of him during practice, Eichi-kun!”

Eichi’s lips press thin. He reaches over and puts an arm around Tori to Tori’s incandescent delight. The brightness of his smile sweetens Tsumugi’s temper enough that he can feel how his own expression softens, becomes more genuine, and he waves at Tori one last time.

“Good night, Tori-kun!”

“Good night, Tsumugi-sama!”

And, as Tsumugi turns, thoughts racing and scattered, he realizes that there is _so much_ he has to tell Natsume, and Natsume is going to be pleased about precisely none of it. Sora will at least be supportive of this development, he thinks despairingly, and heads for home.


	4. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s only when Tori is actually in the library, Fushimi-kun has returned to the Student Council Room, and Tsumugi has had some time to put up his emotions like slotting books back onto shelves that Tsumugi comes to the abrupt realization that this is not, in fact, a great plan at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I l i v e 
> 
> i'm also sorry in advance for this chapter being kind of a mess? there's just stuff in the next chapter that i'm excited to get to.

"My, it’s certainly busy in here, isn’t it?” Tsumugi says as he steps into the chaos that currently comprises the Student Council room.

It feels like it has been a long, long time since Tsumugi’s voice alone could make Eichi twitch like that. Tsumugi smiles sunnily at him but his attention turns almost immediately to Tori, flitting here and there among the piles of paper. Everyone is bustling around in the flurry that always happens before events. Even Anzu is here, and Tsumugi waves at her.

Eichi clears his throat. “Aoba-kun. Is there a reason for you to be intruding?”

“Oh, I was stopping by to see if there was any way I could help. Hello there, Tori-kun. Now is probably a bad time to visit, hm? Seems crowded in here.”

And just as he says that, a pile of papers falls to the floor, succumbing to its own weight. Tori lets out an unholy noise, strangled and frustrated to the point of visible tears. Fushimi-kun is already kneeling, though, picking up everything while Tori breathes hiccupping little breaths, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Oh no. Tsumugi steps forward, but Tori kneels down too, trying his best to get the papers in order. “Tsumugi-sama, I’m sorry, I just-“

“It’s alright, Tori-kun. I didn’t mean to cause such a mess. If it’s too crowded in here, though, you can always use the library,” Tsumugi says. “Could be quieter too.”

The look Tori gives him is so nakedly grateful that Tsumugi _feels_ the way his face heats up.

“Would you like some assistance moving your work there, Bocchama? I would be glad to carry your papers.” Fushimi stands, hands full of documents. Despite his polite phrasing and the placid expression on his face, it doesn’t feel like a question, and Tori seems to realize this as he accepts the help without complaint.

“Aoba-kun.”

Tsumugi sighs. Ignoring Eichi is a risky move at best, but he leans down to help Tori up without acknowledging him. Tori’s hand is smooth and warm in Tsumugi’s, and he smiles down at Tori once they’re both upright. “There we go. Need me to carry anything, Tori-kun?”

A hand on his elbow stops him. Tori’s gaze flicks over his shoulder, something uncertain in his expression, but he shakes his head as he lets his hand slip out of Tsumugi's. “Yuzuru and I will get it. It’s alright, Tsumugi-sama.”

“Tsumugi.”

Ah, back on a first name basis when Eichi wants something out of him, of course. Tsumugi lets Eichi turn him, looking up into clear blue. He waits until Tori has stepped away to help Fushimi before answering. “Yes, Eichi-kun?”

“I believe I told you not to involve Tori in whatever scheme you’re planning.”

“And I believe I told you there was no scheme. Eichi-kun, you know me.” A gentle dagger of admonishment, set against Eichi’s frail breastbone as Tsumugi pushes it in with his chiding. “You know that I would never go out of my way to use another person the way you’re implying. I’m only offering him somewhere quieter to work.”

(In the corner of the room, he catches Anzu mouthing an apology at them, one hand in front of her chest, and he waves her off with a smile. Always so diligent.)

Eichi’s eyes are cold when Tsumugi looks at him again.

Tsumugi smiles. False, false, false all the way across, stretched like an old skin he isn’t used to wearing anymore. “Was there an actual concern you had for me, or is this all conjecture?”

“Don’t use Tori to play games with me, Tsumugi.”

Tsumugi doesn’t mean to laugh.

He can’t help it.

“Eichi-kun, I wouldn’t do something like that,” he says, even though he _would_ because that’s how this whole mess started. But it was just the once. Every other time he’s had Tori to himself – wait, no, not _himself_. Tori has been delightful to learn about, to grow accustomed to, and to want with a simple, pleased glow that starts somewhere in Tsumugi’s stomach and spreads everywhere else. “The worst parts of me have always been someone else’s to use.”

“You say that, but you eagerly did things I never asked you for.”

Tsumugi goes cold.

He-

_Bastard._

Tsumugi did those things so Eichi would never have to ask, would looked pleased and satisfied and _at Tsumugi_ for once and he just-

“I have all my things, Tsumugi-sama,” Tori says at his elbow.

Yanking his arm free of Eichi’s grasp, Tsumugi turns and exits the student council room. He’s aware, peripherally, of Isara-kun side-stepping him, of Keito’s low murmur, but it’s all ancillary to his wounded pride coursing through him.

He knows his sharp edges are showing like bits of reef exposed by low tide, Tori’s curious sidelong glances burning against his skin, but he’s helpless to stop it until he gets a moment of solitude and can wrest his temper back under control again. It will be fine, once he gets back to the library. Once he gets away from Eichi’s knowing, prideful eyes.

“ _Breathe, Tsumugi,_ ” he tells himself.

“Tsumugi-sama,” Tori starts, but he subsides when Tsumugi shakes his head. By his side, Fushimi-kun side-eyes the both of them, and Tsumugi swallows the burn of his temper.

Opening the library with hands that barely shake at all, Tsumugi forces a smile onto his face. “Let’s just get to work, shall we? Great plan.”

 

* * *

 

It’s only when Tori is actually in the library, Fushimi-kun has returned to the Student Council Room, and Tsumugi has had some time to put up his emotions like slotting books back onto shelves that Tsumugi comes to the abrupt realization that this is not, in fact, a great plan at all.

He is alone in here.

With Tori.

He, Tsumugi, is alone with Tori, who was so warm and so close to him that Tsumugi’s skin still tingles in aftershocks whenever he remembers.

(Tori, who Tsumugi is swiftly realizing that he likes an awful lot.)

Tsumugi twitches at every motion, every shift and huff, expecting- What? More closeness? More of Tori in his space, his wide green eyes taking up all of Tsumugi’s attention as an unknown kind of heat sears him, a want that Tsumugi thought was reserved for others? How presumptuous of him. Tsumugi can’t let his imagination run away with him like this. It was only ever going to happen the one time. It was because Tsumugi used to be in _fine_. That’s all.

Frowning as he puts another book onto the shelf, Tsumugi presses a hand to his sternum.

His heart can calm down any time now.

But. Nothing happens. Tori works on his council work without stopping, only muttering complaints here and there, and, bit by bit, Tsumugi relaxes. It’s like having Leo-kun in here, only quieter. Tsumugi has always worked best to the background noise of other people.

A few minutes later, Tori lets out a particularly aggrieved sigh, and Tsumugi can’t help but chuckle. “Need a break?”

“If I take a break, the Vice President will know and send lasers out of his glasses to kill me instantly,” Tori mutters as he scrubs his eyes. He bites his lip, looking over the remaining piles of work before he slumps across them. Then, a despairing, “Yes.”

Tsumugi pats his back. Doesn’t linger, fingers trailing down Tori’s spine. If he does, that’s his own imagination. “Come on, then. A quick break won’t hurt. There’s no food allowed in the library, but I can get you something from one of the vending machines in the first floor hallway.”

“If there’s no food allowed, how come it always smells like cookies here?” Tori asks, pushing back from the table.

“Well,” Tsumugi prevaricates. Natsume’s baking habit is a secret he will take to his grave, if Natsume has anything to say about it. Plus, it’s cute in a way Natsume doesn’t tend to let himself be. “It’s the smell of old books?”

Tori shoots him a flat, unimpressed look, but Tsumugi’s smile remains serene, so he lets it drop. They don’t converse much on the way down to the vending machine, letting their footsteps fill the silence between them. It’s almost comfortable.

(Almost, except for how _aware_ Tsumugi is every time their hands come close to brushing.)

Tsumugi manages to stay strong all the way to the vending machine. He pulls out his coin purse, digging through for the right yen when he notices Tori’s foot tapping on the floor, a frown digging a line across his face.

“What’s the matter, Tori-kun?”

Tori scowls at the machine. “I don’t have any coins on me.”

Tsumugi laughs. “That’s alright. I can get you a single drink. What do you want?”

He pays for the strawberry Calpico Tori stabs a finger at and gets himself a hot chocolate. The can is comfortably warm between his hands, and the conversation between them is easier as they return to the library, their steps meandering, shoulders brushing every so often. Every brush of Tori's fingers against his own feels somehow purposeful, and Tori keeps sneaking glances at Tsumugi. “What is it?” Tsumugi asks, when the looks Tori has been shooting him don’t show any signs of stopping. “Is there something on me?”

“No, I. Uh. Um. Tsumugi-sama."

And a few fingers slide between his own, tugging him to a halt right in front of the library's doors. 

“We need to finish these before we go back inside,” Tori mutters, looking down. “Don’t we?”

Tsumugi thinks he would cut off his own hand before he made Tori release his careful grip on Tsumugi’s fingers. He can barely hear himself over the battering rhythm of his own heartbeat, slamming against his ribs, and he thinks he agrees. Probably. If the strangled noise he lets out resembles anything like agreement.  _This is ridiculous_ , he thinks as they stand there, finishing their drinks together.  _Getting so worked up over holding hands_. If that's even what it is. It's probably just Tori keeping Tsumugi here. Probably. 

He only realizes that he's been staring when Tori clears his throat, pulls his hand free. "What is it?"

"Wh-oh. You've." Oh. Now he has to come up with something that isn't completely related to how much Tsumugi wants to lean down and kiss him. His hand feels colder, and even his hot chocolate is empty, so there's nothing to replace the missing warmth. Ah well. Tsumugi gets rid of the can and leads the way into the quiet of his library again. "Nothing, just. You’ve been working very hard,” Tsumugi says, patting Tori’s head.

A bright pink flush floods Tori’s face. He harrumphs, sticking his nose up in the air. “That’s right, praise me more!”

“I’ll praise you plenty when your work is finished.”

“You’re the one who distracted me.” However, Tori attacks the documents with renewed energy, his pen darting across the pages. He doesn’t look up when Tsumugi leaves.

Tsumugi sinks to the floor behind one of the nearby bookshelves, where he’s fairly certain Tori can’t see him. Covering his mouth with shaking hands, he loosens his grip on the tight knot that he’s built in his chest all day. His eyes prickle. His entire body quivers.

Oh no.

He likes Tori _so much_.

There isn’t a thing about him that isn’t cute. His smile, his eyes, his imperious little face. The light he gets in his eyes when he’s certain he’s about to get away with something. How tirelessly he applies himself because he’s not trying to skate by on the force of his name, but by his own virtue.

At least Sora doesn’t mind Tsumugi’s burgeoning crush, saying that he likes Tsumugi’s colors when he talks about Tori. Natsume isn’t pleased, but he didn’t start threatening to blow up the school, so Tsumugi counts that as a win. So does that mean it would be okay? For Tsumugi to like Tori? Is it alright for Tsumugi to want to kiss the upturned bow of his mouth and to hold his hand and face the gimlet stares of Eichi and Fushimi-kun purely for _enjoying_ Tori’s company?

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, lost in his own thoughts. Sunlight arcs through a window, straight into Tsumugi’s eyes, and he hisses. Tsumugi blinks red sunset out of his eyes, heart thrumming in his chest. There’s a strange buzzing sound in his ears, irregular, and Tsumugi startles. How long has he just been sitting here? How has it gotten to be so late? Tori shouldn’t- The sun is almost set and the school gates will be closing soon, and Tori shouldn’t be subjected to all-nighters. Natsume would kill him if he let Tori down into the secret room too, so no chance of staying there overnight, either.

Tsumugi pushes himself up and goes to retrieve Tori. He stops when he turns the corner. Covers his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to smooth out his smile.

Because Tori is face down on the desk. The soft buzzing sound he heard is actually Tori, snoring softly at odd intervals, and Tsumugi has to muffle his laughter as he comes closer. Carefully, quietly, he lifts a folded blanket from the back of a nearby chair.

“You’re far more hardworking than you like to let on, aren’t you, Tori-kun?” Tsumugi sighs and drapes a blanket across Tori’s thin shoulders. He doesn’t let himself linger. Or at least, he intends not to linger. A hand, lightning fast, grasps the hem of his jacket, and Tsumugi freezes.

Oh no.

Tori murmurs. The words are indistinct, blurred with sleep. Tsumugi wiggles a finger into the tight clutch of Tori’s hand, trying to peel his fingers open, but. No, Tori’s grip is far too tight. He can’t get him to let go without waking him up. Which would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Tori’s been working so hard. Surely he deserves a little rest.

For that matter, the angle his head is resting at must be uncomfortable.

Worrying his lip with his teeth, Tsumugi edges his way onto the table in front of Tori, shuffling papers out of his way as quiet as he can. Set them to the side, there, and then. He holds his breath as he gently lifts Tori’s head into his lap. Tori allows this with the kind of unconscious trust that comes from never having been truly hurt by another person, a fact that clenches around Tsumugi’s heart with an iron fist.

Well. Tsumugi doesn’t plan on being the first of that number.

As he lets out a long sigh, a pleasant scent wafts to Tsumugi’s nose. Something sweet, gentle, and Tsumugi traces it back to Tori. Tori’s eyelashes are a dark sweep against his cheeks, Tsumugi can’t help but notice, and his lips are sweetly parted. If he just. Sort of.

Leans over.

And brushes a faint kiss across the upturn of Tori’s cheek, soft enough not to warrant even a whisper of movement. Tsumugi sits upright, careful not to disturb his sleeping charge, his heart hammering against his ribs. Too daring. Far, far too much. With any luck, he thinks as he settles in, one hand stroking Tori’s hair and the other pressed firmly against his own lips, Fushimi-kun won’t wait too long to come find them so he can bring his Bocchama home.

(And hopefully, he won’t be bringing a chainsaw with him.)

**Author's Note:**

> please come talk to me on my enstars twitter @tsumoogle, I ship everyone because it's not my fault that yumenosaki is full of terrible poly boys who enjoy contorting in various configurations because SERIOUSLY WHAT IS REASONABLE ESCALATION WHEN EICHI TENSHOUIN IS ON THE LINE


End file.
